


Catch your Breath

by Lotter



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, Red Hood and the Outlaws (Comics)
Genre: Alcohol, Alkhale Inktober Challenge, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Heartache, I have no clue what is going on, LET'S FIND OUT, Mystery, Sadness, Smut, Stubborn attempts at learning the truth, Will I be able to complete it?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-02
Updated: 2020-10-05
Packaged: 2021-03-07 18:47:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,284
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26772397
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lotter/pseuds/Lotter
Summary: It all started with her lover's disappearance, unusual and heartbreaking. Like any Gothamite that read the surviving Gotham guide, she should have forgotten it and moved on. Unfortunately, she was anything but stubborn.Aka I have no idea what I'm doing, Also, I suck at summary, Or, Alkhale Inktober Challenge.
Relationships: Jason Todd/Original Female Character(s), Red Hood/Original Female Character(s)
Kudos: 14





	1. Day 1: Refresh the page

**Author's Note:**

> Listen, I have no clues what I'm doing and even less what is going to happen. I just let my fingers guide me and hope for the best. Jason may be OOC as hell, please don't hate me.

  1. _Refresh the page_



“Another one!” She rasped to the bartender.

The man sent her one look, eyed the two dead bottles next to her, and shrugged. 

Inwardly, she appreciated the gesture. At least, this one minded his own business, unlike all the other ones that believed to be her armure in shining knight-

 _Wait… that’s wrong?_ Her mind was getting foggier, like a heavy blanket of... fog…? 

She shook her head, wincing when her brain collided with her skull. _Bad idea._

She wasn’t an alcoholic, well not exactly. She liked the buzz cheap alcohol brought, it filled her with warmth. She yearned for that, the warmth of another body next to hers when waking up, the fierce burn of too much love it spilled everywhere, and as she couldn’t get it, she replaced it with something artificial.

She watched as a bead of condensation ran down the side of her new bottle, a finger collecting it before it could touch the table. Then, it disappeared down her finger, to her palm where it died. Alone and dehydrated. Like her.

Some kind of jazz remix of Senorita could be heard over the loud, raucous voices of drunken men and the pathetic flirting of underage teens - it’s Gotham, no one will care if a teen poisoned himself. If he didn’t do it himself, Gotham will. The song wrapped itself around her head, echoing in her mind even when the song ended. 

A wry smile curved her lips as she took a puff of the cheap cigarette she stole from a guy. He did that too. He wrapped her in his melody, and her heart and her lips pulsed and beat for his name while her soul sang when she fell in his embrace. Her blood thrummed with glee with each kiss they shared. 

He wasn’t perfect, broken, and jaded by life, and maybe he wasn’t the right kind of poison for her but _dear god_ , she _loved_ him. 

Yet, like anything good that happened to her, it only lasted for a moment. A moment long enough to set fire to her soul and warmed himself with it before he left like a thief in the middle of the night.

He hurt her, poisoned her. And yet-

She _fucking_ missed him with every fiber of her body.

They always said that she loved like a storm, fiercely and vibrantly, that she gave everything and took just as much. She wroke havoc in her life to please her loved ones. It was much more apparent in her grief. 

She was only a trickle of what she used to be, broken and jaded like he was. She needed to move on, to forget him, and started to heal.

Their story ended and she needed to turn to a new page.

Her eyes caught movement in the shadows near the corner of the bar. Dark hair with a streak of white. A strong body - wider and taller than most of the men who frequented this shithole of a bar - covered with a leather jacket. 

_Brown_ , _nice color,_ she thought, turning on her stool as she examined him more closely. He looked alert, aware of his surroundings all the time. He looked…

She downed the remaining of her drink in one go. 

He looked just like her next mistake.

Tonight, she would forget him in the arms of a stranger, and tomorrow, she will refresh the page she was on, hoping he would somehow come back for her.


	2. Day 2: Warmth on a cold night

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The smut is here, you can skip it if you want.

_2\. Warmth on a cold night_

Fingers twisted and tangled black hair as teeth grazed her collarbone before going back for her lips. His kisses were hot and messy with more tongue and teeth than lips but drew the most pleasure and she responded in kind.

Within a second, they were back at it, kissing with an urgency that only the affection starved ones could understand. 

Each touch was fiery, burning her cold body and warming her soul. 

_Warmth, warmth, warmth._

With the kind of hunger that could never be satiated, she gripped his hair, pulling it back until they gazed at each other. 

His eyes were a swirling mess of green and blue. Clear eyes ignited by flames of passion and self-righteous anger. It scared her, how vibrant he was, how similar they were. Both broken and jaded, both starving for love.

Her feeling must have been blatant as he suddenly stopped the roaming of his hands. 

There was a reverence in her eyes and a fragility in her posture that he didn’t take into account earlier, and as doubt settled down the pit of his stomach, his hand ghosted over her cheek delicately, afraid to break her. She was still as he carefully lowered his hand toward her face, freezing and almost recoiling when a shaky sigh stumbled past her lips.

“Do you still want…” He stopped, not sure how to finish his sentence. _Do you still want… with me?_

It didn’t take a genius to understand what he meant and even less to hear the emotions behind his words.

She tilted her head, leaning into his rough palm, a soft smile on her lips. Inwardly, her smile was wry and dark. Out of everyone in the room, she chose the one more broken than herself.

“Of course,” her whisper stroked his chapped lips as she brought him closer to her.

_Let him burn you,_ chanted every cell in her body. 

A soft gasp. His hips moved again, hitting her right. The memory of how she came to end in this situation - naked on his knees - was long forgotten but she didn’t particularly care at the moment. As long as his hips kept humping hers and his hands kept touching her, adoring her, she would stay here forever.

The loss of his lips on her made her whined, searching blindingly for his mouth only to be denied with a snort.

“Patience,” he growled when she tugged his hair a bit too hard.

She pouted for a second, and the next-

He presses his lips down to the base of her neck, trailing feather-light butterfly kisses down to her collarbone, laving his tongue and sucking just to see her gasp and wriggle in his grasp, surprised and slightly needy. 

His hand cradling her head fell in her back, bringing her breast to his face and peppering them with thousand of tiny kisses as his other hand brought her hips closer. His teeth raked across her skin until they caught one of her nipples. He kissed, sucked, and licked it until she pulled his hair, squirming away, too sensitive. 

He then - painfully slowly - crossed her cleavage, devoting his attention to her other nipple before he pushed her down on the mattress.

He stared at her, and he really looked good - lips swollen and red, hair disheveled, and face lightened by the ethereal glow of the moon. 

He was was all muscles and flesh, skin akin to a night sky with all the scares acting as constellations. For a fleeting moment, she wondered if she was making a mistake, he looked a lot like a gang member or a villain but he smirked at her, dangerous and seductive, and all warnings were thrown to the wind. It was only for a night, anyway. 

She was drinking in this sight like a woman lost in the desert. He had his thumb hooking his underwear, drawing her attention to the hair that started under his navel and disappeared under it.

A shiver ran down her spine to her core. She thought it was the most beautiful sight that ever greeted her eyes and couldn’t turn her eyes away. 

The bed dipped under his weight, hands on each side of her face, he was hovering her, watching intently.

Without the alcohol in her system, she would have shied away, his unwavering gaze being too much to handle. However, she simply smiled seductively, eyes going half-lidded with desire. 

Her hand rose, going for his rough hand, bringing it to her mouth and kissing the scars on it.

Her next mistake exhaled slowly. His hand moving out of her grasp while his knuckles stroked her cheek, thumb rubbing her lower lip. Her heart twisted funnily when faced with his gentleness, and heat crept up her ears. 

“ _Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?_

 _Thou art more lovely and more temperate._ ” 

He broke the silence, eyes shining and she had to wire back her brain and kick it to restart it. It took her longer than she cared to admit to realize he was quoting a sonnet.

She smiled, bright and lively, eyes lighting up as she cupped his cheek. “No one ever used Shakespeare on me before. It’s kind of flattering.”

His eyes widened, unexpecting her to understand his reference - or maybe flustered by his own urge - and she used that moment of inattention to catch his wrist, pushing his shoulder and inversing their positions. 

On top of him, she looked breathtaking. A sharp, wild grin curled red lips while half-lidded eyes smoldered him with wanton hunger, shining ethereally as half-filtered moonlight rays kissed her face and her breasts.

“But out of all the sonnets,” she put two hands on each side of his face, slowly, seductively, leaning forward until their noses touched. His hands curled around the bronze of her tights, affixing his mark on her. “You had to quote the one where he throws flowers at himself. Nice try, but you shouldn’t quote Shakespeare to a nerd like me.”

She drank his witty remark before it could leave his lips. “What should I call you?”

The starry-eyed man blinked, before muttering “Jason. You?”

Her eyes trailed across the room, searching for something before they fell on the window. Her lips curved as an idea flashed in her mind. “Selene, call me Selene.”

“Ah,” he moved, sitting up and she felt the flex of his muscles under her tight, “A mystery woman. Hiding your identity like a villain?” 

He caught on quickly. She let out a small laugh, looping her arms around his wide shoulders and trying really hard to get into character. “And what if I am?”

She tried to mimic the smile she saw on Poison Ivy, her first and only encounter with a supervillain, watching him from under her lashes.

His smirk showed more of his teeth, eyes darkening, and he cupped her jaw. Fear and arousal made a strange, explosive mix inside her. “It depends on the severity of your crimes. For a petty criminal, a good spanking will do.”

He slapped her butt, hard and unforgiving and Selene yelped. “Hey! I didn’t give you my permission for that.”

She frowned, scrunching her nose. The darkness in his eyes lightened considerably, he kissed her nose. “Sorry, mystery woman.” 

Her lips wobbled as her frown eased.

“And what if I am a supervillain?” She asked, genuinely interested in his answer. He was a bit too serious for her taste but-

It intrigued her.

She fell on the mattress with a yelp, her legs pressed flush against his tights - _big, beefy, and strong tights_ , she noted distractingly - as he hovered over her, caging her in his arms.

He put two fingers against her temple in a gun-like manner, “I would have to put a hole in that pretty head of yours.”

Selene panted, heart racing. His smile was quite dark and a bit scary.

Her mind raced but before she knew it, she yanked on his hair, bringing his mouth back on her as an answer. 

It was almost too much. The atmosphere was a bit too heavy and the topic, too dark to be discussed on a bed. Especially when she hasn’t been satiated yet. 

The moment was soon forgotten though and they were back at it, basking in the other warmth while their tongues danced. His touch still burned her, bringing her higher and higher, and closer and closer to her ancient self.

At first, she was content with simply his hands on her, scared fingers grazing the bronze of her tight, ribs and body, exploring and memorizing her, entwining their limbs, discovering soft spots and-

But it wasn’t enough, she needed more - the threads of her sanity thinned as time passed - and she needed it _now_.

Somehow, her big toe managed to hook his underwear, dragging it down.

“Jason, ” She moaned as her arms encircled his strong neck, legs caressing his hips. His cock was pressed so intimately against her that warmth flew back to her cheeks. 

“What do you want?” He shakily exhaled, breath cooling her skin. 

Selene whined in answer, nails scratching his back. Now was _not_ the time for his teasing.

“You. I want you to take me, to ravage me until my mind shatters.” She answered earnestly, eyes boring into his as her blush deepened.

She needed him for tonight. More than he could imagine. She needed him to keep the numbness at bay, to make her feel good, and anchored her in the present.

His breath hitched for a moment.

He was a sun, battered and cracked, but a sun none the less and she needed one to warm her on this cold night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can probably tell that I have no clue what the hell is going on.  
> Anyway, pretty sure you understood it but for the one who didn't get it. Selene is not her real name, she chose it when her eyes fell on the window from which she could see outside and more particularly, the moon. Hence, Selene.  
> Hopefully, it's not too OOC.


	3. Day 3: fool for lesser things

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A discussion between two roommates

_3\. Fool for lesser things_

Steps slow and painful, she moved purely off muscle memory and routine, dragging herself like gravity was applying twice harder on her. Right after St Ann’s church, three blocks down, three buildings on the right, up the steps to her little apartment. Keys in her inside pocket - never outside, too dangerous -, hip bumping into the door when it stuck to knock it open. The rusty hinges screamed as she closed the door, playing with the lock once more until she heard the satisfying sound of the lock closing and finally, _finally_ , she was _home_.

Keys jingling as she put them into the bowl next to the entrance, she checked the content, a soft blanket of satisfaction wrapping around her heart as another set of keys were in it. She sent a cursory glance around the room, watching the dim light already filtering through the thin curtains of her living room and drawing the shape of someone watching her from her couch.

She did a double-take, bumping into the door while her heart yeeted itself into the stratosphere. “Holy sh- Annie, what the- Why are you awake?”

“You’ve been out the whole night.” Annie - her roommate - accused, arms crossed over her ample breasts, something she has always been complexed about. 

She wisely kept quiet, waiting for her heart to fall back into her chest before answering. “ It’s okay, I’m back. No scratch on me, see.”

She turned on herself to prove her point. 

“Diane, really, that’s not the point.” Annie threw her hands up in frustration. Diane couldn’t understand how she still had so much energy at 5 in the morning, “Something clearly happened, you’ve been out the whole night every day for a _week_ now.”

Diane squinted, brow furrowed. She tasted something bitter, something similar to indignation, and she smelt like the sewer, something she was more than eager to get rid of. 

“You’re keeping tabs on me, now?” Annie made a taken aback moved, surprised by the cold fury behind her words, “Is that your new hubby? After rendering your boyfriend crazy with your controlling tendencies, I’m the new victim?”

Oh, she would regret saying this, once she would have enough sleep into her small body. She will make herself crazy with guilt, agonizing over all of her words, blaming herself for not apologizing - _Ah_ , that small pride of her, rearing its ugly head - until Annie finished sulking and they would act like nothing happened.

Diane clenched her hands, crescent marks appearing on her palms as she waited for the inevitable downpour of anger. 

It never came.

“You’re unfair,” her voice was soft and sad, a bit tired too, “I’ve been worried sick all night because you wouldn’t come back and that’s the first thing you tell me.”

Ah. So, Annie adopted a new strategy. _Guilt-tripping, uh?_ She thought only her mother would do that to her but she was wrong. Her friend was adopting the same method. 

Perhaps it was the sudden display of weakness or maybe the feelings behind her words but something ugly and dark crawled into the pit of her stomach - _she still wants to be your friend for now but she will abandon you as_ he _did_ , it whispered in her ears. 

Instead of answering, Diane chose to hide into the bathroom, the only room inside with a lock on the door.

“Oh no, you don’t,” Annie tried to jump in her path but Diane was faster, closing the door in her face. She leant on it, sighing, and jumped when Annie banged on the door, raging behind it. “You can run but you can’t hide. We’re going to have that conversation today, I promise, so you better-”

Diane drowned her voice with the song of the shower’s water.

The pipes moaned like a horror movie ghost before spitting out a dribble of cold water and she leant back into her initial position. She sighed, weary to the marrow and ready to drop dead on her bed and perhaps remained hidden under her covers for the rest of her life. 

_That sounds so nice._ She closed her eyes, head tilting back until it bumped against the door. _Staying hidden in bed, away from people, from heartache. Running from my problems, especially from the raging storm walking back and forth behind the door._

To think she was doing that for _her own good_. Diane scoffed, a small part inside of her that was neither numb nor tired raged, _how pretentious, nobody asks her to do that_. 

Still, after she walked to the shower, steam filling the room as she cut the shower on, she admonished herself. 

Annie was her friend and she was a far better friend than she could have asked of a Gothamite. She was worried -Diane didn’t miss the careful once over she gave her every time she went out, she simply ignored it- and perhaps tired of seeing her sad face. 

Diane bathed her skin lightly, taking careful notice not to touch the bruises that scattered her body, before letting the water beat over her head into steamy rivulets. 

She couldn’t avoid the following discussion but she could delay it. 

_Just for a while longer_ , she thought, _just until it turns cold._

…

Annie was waiting for her on the couch, arms crossed over a silky vest. She had changed into her favorite, ‘battle-ready’ as she said, outfit in the meantime. A silky vest and black jeans. And she was eyeing her like a predator would, watching as Diane went to the kettle and filled it with water, then she boiled it two times - Gotham tap’s water wasn’t really clean - and finally poured it into a mug. Only then, Diane sat down in front of her, stealing the blanket to steel her nerves. 

“So...”

“So.” Annie answered back, index tapping on her arm. 

Diane grimaced. Her roommate wasn’t going to help her. “I went out.”

She cocked a brow, displeased with the lack of apology but pleased with her willingness to come clean, “Where?” 

“Crime Alley.”

A sigh. “I was afraid you would say that,” she rubbed her eyes, looking very much like her mother, “Dia. I know it’s hard but it’s time to-”

“Please don’t say that-”

“- You need to move on. He _left_ you a month ago. He is not coming back and-”

“Please,” her voice broke as her heart made a horrible twist. She wasn’t ready yet, she couldn’t let go now. She needed to know if he really-

She ended her sentence in a whisper, “Ask me anything but that.”

Annie, her beautifully strong roommate, put her face in her hands, elbows against her knees before she twisted her hair into a bun. “Okay. Then, what happened last week?”

_What put you in such a mood?_

A bitter smile and melancholic eyes. The memory of a night of warmth that haunted her for the whole week came back full force. “You’re going to think that I’m stupid.”

She snorted, an ugly sound for such a pretty face. “Trust me, I’m sure you’ve already been a fool for lesser things.”

Diane smiled, nodding with her. It was true enough. “I met a man.” The owlish eyes and her straightened back betrayed her surprise and interest, she nodded for her to continue, “We spent the night together-”

Annie made a throaty noise, leaning her elbows back on her knees and listening with rapt attention. 

Diane’s eyes creased at that, picking at the fluff of the blanket. She has always been such a slut for those stories. “- and I felt- I felt like I was back to my old self, joking and smiling and- it felt great.”

Her roommate frowned, wondering why the hell she reacted like she did before it clicked. She ooohed. “So, you’ve been searching for both your past lover and your potential new one.”

“No!” Her shout echoed in the room, “I-”

A loud banging on the wall stopped her, “Will you fucking shut up! It’s 5:30 a.m!”

Annie groaned, jumped on her feet and went to the wall, “We aren’t complaining when you listen to your cowboy’s music until 2 a.m, so shut your damn mouth!”

“Yeah!” Diane added her support from afar. 

“It’s called country, you cunt!” 

The shouting match probably would have lasted but a banging from above and a firm order to ‘shut the hell up or I will kill you.’ kept them all quiet. This neighbor was a famous drug dealer and no one wanted to see if his threats were real or not. 

Annie sat back, looking mighty pissed before she reported her attention to her roommate. “So?”

“Right… Oh, yeah. I wasn’t searching for him.”

Annie rolled her eyes, blowing a wild strand out of her eyes, “Right, my bad. You weren’t searching for him, _actively_. But from the corners of your eyes, that’s another story.”

Diane puffed and huffed but had to admit that she wasn’t entirely wrong. If she found him again, she wouldn’t mind spending the night with him once more. 

“It’s just that-” she hesitated, “he was the first to make me feel alive _again_ and I-”

“That’s so cliché.” Her redhead friend giggled in her hand, “Diane, my dear, you’ve just found your soulmate.”

“Shut up.” 

They fell into silence until Annie, unable to contain her curiosity anymore asked her to continue her sentence. 

“I just want to feel alive again but-”

“You’re not ready to move on.” Diane nodded, casting her eyes downward, “You shouldn’t feel ashamed. You’re human, it’s okay if you want to see someone again simply because you felt something and it’s okay to use him to help you be better. It’s Gotham, honey. It’s a use or be used and kill or be killed kind of city. No one will blame you.”

_No one except yourself._

“I know, I- I just want to feel his warmth and be burned again.” _I want to feel again._

The silence was eloquent enough. And Diane raised her head again.

“I can’t fucking believe it, you took _one_ course on letters or classicism or theater or _whatever_ and now you’re spouting pretty bullshit.”

Diane threw her head back, bursting into laughter, smiling so hard it brought tears to her eyes and light to her heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Will you look at that, I actually manage to keep a schedule for three days. I'm impressed with myself. Anyway, no Jason in this one but more about our OC that I decided to name Diane. Anyway, if you have any suggestions or fun quirks to give to the OC, feel free to tell me.  
> It's going to be some kind of custom-built OC.  
> Next one is _"it's still love"_ , I have no clue how to write it... T.T


	4. Day 4: it's still love

_ 4.It’s still love _

Dressed all in black, Diane was a shadow among the shadows, she skirted and slipped between walls with the ease and discretion that only the assassin wannabes had - muffled but uncertain. The weight in her pocket felt much heavier than it was.

She threw one look at her phone, confirming that she was at the right place before she stuffed it back in her pocket. Next street, the second building on her right. 

Her heart was already pounding in her chest as she walked toward her destination. The dread crept over her like some icy spider, sinking its fangs into her brain. In this frozen state, her mind offered her only one thought. It was  _ now _ . There was no avoiding it. She would get her answer. 

She felt like a cow being herded into a truck for the slaughterhouse, only the cow didn't know where it was going and she did.  _ Right into the safe house of a gangster. _

She was surprised no one came out to check what was that pounding noise her heart was making, it was the only thing she could hear in the silent street. 

_ In and out. _ These breathing techniques were as effective as a water gun on a forest fire; it did very little to soothe her nerves but kept the panic at bay.

She stopped in the shadows of a building, observing the house. 

It was a complete mess, to put it nicely. The boarded windows, the shabby wood paneling, and the peeling door that was bolted with an old and broken lock, all looked scary and threatening enough to keep most people away. 

_ You should stay away, nothing good will come out of the truth, _ her inner Gothamite warned her. There was a pleading undertone in it, one that begged her to remain inconspicuous within the sea of average citizens.

Paint crumbled under her hand leaving the splintered door bare. It whined on its amber hinges and Diane winced. 

Well, discretion just went out of the window. 

Her hand went to her pocket, recoiling as if burned when she brushed the sharp object in it. She exhaled slowly and walked into the darkness inside.

It took her quite a lot of time to adjust to the lack of light. Everything seemed scarier which didn’t help her growing

Behind the scary exterior, the innards were equally destroyed, if not worse off.

There were no doors separating the rooms on the ground floor, yet they could be found a few feet into each room often with large chunks torn out of them, large scratch marks creating cross-hatched patterns and occasionally there was still paint left clinging to the worn wood. 

_ How ominous…  _ She had to wonder how Ivan Petrov, the glorious diva, managed to live here.  _ Why are you hiding here? What scared you?  _

Surprisingly most of the furniture had survived with minimal damage, only a few scratches, and chips to their name. There was only one rickety staircase leading to the first floor, again the same long scratch marks could be seen all the way up the wall opposite the worn, beaten door.

The air was heavy with humidity and left a stale taste on the back of the tongue.

A strange shiver ran up her spine. The building was dust-free, unnaturally clean and it created a strange dissonance, rendering the house creepier. 

_ If I were a paranoiac gangster, where would I be?  _ The answer came to her naturally.

With muffled footsteps, Diane walked toward the stairs.

The anticipation was a nervous kind of energy. It tingled through her like electrical sparks on the way to the ground, gathering in her toes. Before she knew it, she was already up the stairs, tiptoeing around the corner to the last door, the farther away from the front door. 

Hand on the doorknob, she froze. It was too easy.  _ Paranoiac, remember?  _

Something wasn’t right-

The very typical sound of the security of a gun being removed rang in the silence. Her mouth dried, blood leaving her face.  _ For fuck’s sake… _

“You thought you could take Ivan out that easily, uh?” The man muttered, voice jittering and half-crazed. “So what’s your boss planning?”

Diane raised her hands over her head, slowly as to not startle him, and thought that it was a good idea that she didn’t have her gun in her hand.

“Ivan,” she said as calmly as possible, the picture of her lying in a pool of her blood wouldn’t leave her head, “It’s me, Diane, Ryan’s girlfriend.”

She turned around as he threw his head back and let the meanest, driest laugh out she ever heard. “You’re that bastard’s girlfriend? You’re here for him? Black Mask sent you, right? He wants to- How the hell did you find?”

His face had a yellowish color, the color of a person sick with fear and high on paranoia, eyes bloodshot and crazed, and his face was hollowed, a pale shadow of the man she saw a month ago speaking with her boyfriend. 

He knew where he lived; he had to know what happened.

“Ivan,” she tried again, her heart beat too hard, “No one sent me, especially not Ryan. I’m _ searching _ for him-”

“-How did you find me?” He cut her, spits flying as his face writhed into a furious, demon-like face. 

He took two steps toward her, entering her space while her mind chanted weird prayers that sounded like curses. 

She knew he wouldn’t like her words. “I paid good money for that.”

His grip around the gun tightened and his hand shook. Her feet were rooted on spot and it didn’t even come to her mind that she should move but Ivan relaxed and threw his head back again. 

“And this bastard told me you were as innocent as a lamb. What a joke.” He pushed his hair out of his face, smiling and revealing yellowish teeth. “So, he disappeared, uh? Good riddance! He is the reason why I have to hide now, this traitorous son of a bitch. You’re better off without him.”

_ This is it _ . It was the moment she would learn the truth. Every muscle felt tight, sprung for actions. Her breathing shortened until she was at the threshold of panting while a part of her loathed the idea of learning more. 

_ Run away while you can _ . It feared knowing the truth, the pain it would bring no matter what it was. Perhaps, it was why she refused to use the black market to find answers until now. 

She finally wanted to move on, to be like she used to be or at least, someone similar to who she used to be. Maybe it was pathetic that she needed a one-night stand to understand that but it didn’t matter.

“What happened? Why is it his fault that you have to hide?”  _ Tell me. I need to know. _

He threw her a long glance, burying his hand in his pocket and taking a cigarette out. After he successfully managed to light it, he finally answered. 

“You really don’t know, do you?” His eyes gleamed with  _ pity _ . “Why are you doing this? Revenge? Money?”

Her lips curled into a bitter smile. “ No, it’s still love. It’s all about love.” 

_ But not necessarily just out of love for him. _

He frowned, tilting his head like a dog unable to understand a concept. How sad his life must have been if he couldn’t even understand acts made out of love.

He shook his head, “It doesn’t matter. You made me lose enough time as it is. If you managed to find me, so will they.”

“Wait! I need ans-” She tried to take his hand. She froze. In this abandoned and dark building, the metal glint of a gun somehow shone as bright as the sun. Its barrel was at the level of her eyes and the darkness she saw in there seemed endless.

The sentence died on her lips. 

“Your answer, you can ask him when you meet again.” He smiled as kindly as he could, “Bye-bye.”

Her breath faltered for a second. It was drowned into the loud ‘bang’ of the gun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For now, I'm only a day late and with enough luck, I would be able to post chapter 5 tonight!


End file.
